Newsies In NCIS
by NewsgirlsInNeverland
Summary: Petty Officer Jack Kelly has no idea what to expect when NCIS shows up at his door one morning, slapping cuffs around his wrists and hauling him away. He had never wanted to be familiar with the agency, but it seems that he had no choice. He never does when it comes to the safety of the two people he loves most. This is a story he wished he'd never had to tell.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer! Neither of us writers own NCIS or Newsies...**

 **Hello there, friends! It's SomedayonBroadway here, posting the very first story on my joined account "NewsgirlsInNeverland". I share this account with my good friend bexlynne and we both have some crazy weird crossover ideas, haha!**

 **Apparently, we can just make a crossover out of any two things. But we're both obsessed with Newsies, so most things we write will be with our boys ;).**

 **This story is going to be a lot of fun for two very evil writers. I really hope you guys enjoy this!**

 **Please enjoy!**

Harsh footsteps echoed through the streets in the cold morning. The fog was enough to barely mask bodies rushing through the alleys and streets of DC. A boy was running, frustration clear on his features and two shadows rushed behind him, ready for a fight, clear by the maniacal laughs in their voices as they screamed at him to stop and take it like a man.

The boy didn't stop. He breathed hard and shoved his dark hair out of his face, blinking away the sweat that threatened to cloud his vision as he turned into yet another alleyway. He heard shouting still behind him and he felt his body shaking. If he didn't get away soon, he might as well just give himself up for dead.

"C'mon kid, ya can't run foreva'!" the smaller of the two men called, giving the other man a quick pat on the back as they split. There was a wink exchanged as one of them ran down the street and the other followed the kid through his attempt at an escape. They knew their way around possibly a little too well. And to think this all started over two bucks stolen out of the bigger man's pocket.

The men with similar features probably planned on cutting the child off completely and tackling him until he was begging for them to just give him up to the cops instead of beating him to a bloody pulp. The smaller, younger man laughed as he thought about it, no sympathy catching him for the boy who'd probably not had a proper meal in weeks. And he turned a corner after the kid, ready to spring as he knew the older man would immediately cut him off so they could give the boy a piece of their minds.

That's when it happened.

Something caught the man's foot. The fog was thick enough for him to have missed some homeless man trying to find warmth in the garbage behind some crappy diner. The guy growled and pushed himself up on his ass, ready to give the man a piece of his mind. He didn't get the chance as someone had obviously gotten there first.

"Morris!" he screamed, terror wracking his voice as he tried to convince himself that what his eyes were seeing was not what was in front of him. His heart began beating too fast for him to comprehend as he screamed out for the other man. He could hear the boy getting away, but at that moment, he truly didn't care.

As he scrambled back a bit, the other man rushed up to him. "Os? What is it? Are ya okay?" he asked in a hurry, quickly kneeling down beside the other man and checking for some kind of injury. When he didn't find one, he looked up at the suddenly frightened young man and saw that his eyes were trained on something behind him. Carefully, he followed the terrified gaze his identical brown eyes widened at the sight he found.

There, leaning up against a garbage bin, was a boy. His clothes were torn up, leaving him exposed to the frozen, morning air. His skin was pale and cold, though as one's eyes traveled down his torso, moving past cuts, scars and far too many bruises, they'd find his hands laying in his lap, fingerless with dried blood that had once run over his palms and the back of his hands. His mouth hung open, revealing too many missing teeth and even more blood that had once been dripping from his now blue lips. His curly blond hair had been cut in places, leaving bits and pieces of it shorter than others. But the most daunting thing that might haunt the men forever were the crystal blue eyes, staring helplessly at them, unseeing and unmoving, silently crying out for help in their lifeless state.

"Holy hell..." Morris breathed out at the pitiful sight. The man beneath him was shaken and had frightened tears in his eyes. "Who the hell would _do_ somethin' like that?" he asked, brokenly. As he knew he himself was cruel, that boy wasn't just beaten and left to pick himself up. The torture was clear all over him. But he didn't even have the chance to take out his phone before the smaller boy pointed to something that Morris himself had missed.

Laying crumpled underneath the child's leg was a piece of cloth. But, not just any little meaningless piece of cloth. It was a small, deep red, beautifully decorated bandana.

The look the men shared was a knowing one. And as the looked back at the kid, they couldn't believe their own thoughts. "Call the cops... tell 'em everythin'..."

And that's exactly what Oscar did.

* * *

"Well, well, well," Tony said, glancing up from his monitor with a grin. "Little miss perfect, coming into work late. Never thought I'd see the day." He smugly rested his chin on top of his hand, gazing at the female agent who just walked in.

"Shut up, DiNozzo," Kate muttered, sitting down in her chair gingerly. She adjusted her sunglasses, rubbing her temples with a wince before taking a swig of the water bottle in her hand and placing it down on her desk.

"Hmm," Tony said, standing up and rounding his own desk, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the thing. "Headache, careful movements, light sensitivity..." He smirked. "You're hungover."

Kate rolled her eyes. "I am not, Tony," she deadpanned.

Raising an eyebrow, Tony pushed himself up, quietly walking closer to his teammate before he suddenly snatched the glasses off her face.

Kate screwed her eyes closed, massaging her temples. "DiNozzo!" she complained. "You're just trying to pick a fight because you're in a crappy mood after going home alone last night!"

"Wh-o-a!" Tony protested, stretching out the word whilst dangling the sunglasses in his hand. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Anthony DiNozzo does not 'go home alone.'" He put air quotes around the words. "I'm not McGee."

"Not McGee what?" the youngest agent asked, coming through the door of the elevator.

Tony laughed, spinning away from the desk. "Kate's hu... probie, what happened to you?"

McGee glanced up, setting down his briefcase. "What do you mean?"

Tony snorted, and Kate sent him a glare. "McGee," she said tactfully. "You might want to look in a mirror."

McGee sent the pair of them a strange look, accepting the compact mirror she handed him. Flipping it open, he squinted at his reflection. A half dozen hickeys were visible above his collar, creeping up the side of his neck. "Oh, God. Oh, no, no, no. This... this is not okay. I didn't… Will Gibbs notice?" he stuttered, suddenly terrified.

"Probie, relax," Tony said, taking the mirror out of his hands and tossing it behind him.

"Tony!" Kate protested, barely catching the small item before it hit the ground.

"It's not a big deal," the Italian continued. "Be a man, wear it proud," he smirked, taking the probie by the shoulders. "Show the whole world you're dating a vampire," he deepened his voice, almost growling at the last word before a laugh met his lips.

"Pretty close," McGee muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "C'mon guys, do you have something I can cover up with?"

"Yeah, yeah, hold on," Tony said, leaning over and grabbing a scarf off one of the desks. "Try this."

"Ah, yes," Kate said sarcastically. "Gray wool scarf with a gray suit. Classy, Tony."

"Don't listen to her, man," the senior agent said, adjusting the younger man's collar and straightening his tie. "See? No one'll know."

McGee let out a breath, rolling his shoulders. "Okay. No one'll know. No one'll know, I can do this."

Gibbs nodded a greeting as he strode into the room, nursing his second cup of coffee. "McGee," he said, fixing the younger man with a steely gaze. "Is there a reason you're wearing my scarf?"

McGee panicked. "I... well, you see sir..."

Gibbs jerked his head for the door. "Save it for the road. DiNozzo, start the truck. Kate, call Ducky and have him meet us down there. We have a dead kid in an alleyway."

"Navy?" Kate inquired, standing and grabbing her gear.

Gibbs shook his head. "But our suspect is, and that's good enough for me. Let's just hope the FBI doesn't get there first."

"Works for me, boss," Tony said, clapping McGee on the shoulder. "Probie, you gonna give Gibbs back his scarf?"

"Y-yes, sir," McGee stammered, unwinding the strip of fabric and bunching it up.

"Oh, there's no need to call be so formal," Tony said with a grin. "I mean, it's probably a force of habit from last night. I feel like you're the kind of guy who likes being called 'sir' in the bedroom. Makes a man feel like he's in control-"

"You're disgusting," Kate cut in as they made their way to the elevator.

"I thought I gave you all jobs to do," Gibbs said, sounding irritated. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

"No, sir. I mean… Gibbs," McGee hastened to say. Shoving the scarf into his hands, he whirled around to the door.

Gibbs took a sip of coffee with a sigh, tossing the empty cup in the trash. _It's gonna be a long day._

* * *

"Ouch…" Tony muttered, snapping pictures of the victim on the ground.

"'Ouch' indeed, Anthony…" Ducky agreed as he knelt beside the dead boy. The medical examiner gave the child a heartbroken look. "He looks like he had so much more to live for…" he sighed as he began his first predictions over the poor child. He grabbed a thermometer from his kit and jabbed the device into the boy's abdomen, holding it while it did its own job. "Did I ever tell you about the time-"

"Not now, Duck," Gibbs interrupted easily, staring down at the body like if he looked hard enough, the thing would just spill out all the answers. He wished it would. The child could've been no more than seventeen years old. But he didn't have long to let his mind wander as a local LEO pointed him in the direction of the two shaken witnesses. With a jerk of his head to Kate, the two made their way over to the men.

They were navy men, that much was clear to Gibbs. What else was clear is that they were both very disturbed by whatever they knew and the investigator was going to get to the bottom of it.

"Agent Gibbs, this is Oscar and Morris Delancey," the local cop informed before walking away, continuing in his haste to fully secure the crime scene. Gibbs nodded and stuck out his hand.

"Gibbs," he introduced himself, not missing how the older man was gripping onto the arm of the younger one. "And this is special agent Todd," he introduced his agent.

They both shook his hand and then hers, Oscar not even daring to take his eyes off the body. "Did either of you touch the body before we got here?" he asked, knowingly. No way they were this shaken up without knowing something that he didn't. And when the older one reached back into his pocket, the agent could guess as to what they were looking for.

"We just had to make sure it was him…" Oscar muttered out quietly, like he was afraid to speak. And when Gibbs narrowed his eyes at them, the young man continued as his brother held out the wallet he'd taken from the boy. "Anthony Kelly…"

Kate's eyes widened just slightly. "Did you know him?" she asked calmly, gesturing back towards the body.

With a quick nod of the head, the older man took a shaky breath. "We know his older brother," he explained, feeling a nausea take over him as he tried to convince himself that this couldn't be real. "Real pain in the ass," he spat out bitterly as he recalled the guy.

"You said you knew who'd done this," the female agent commented, taking out her notepad and scribbling some things down. She glanced back at the poor victim before turning back to the witnesses. "How?"

Before either one of them answered, something seemed to catch Oscar's eye. Suddenly, his gaze was harsh and angry. "That!" he yelled, pointing over to where McGee was bagging a very distinct red bandana. No one, not even the man's brother could stop him from jogging over to the thing, and taking the bag in his hands. "It's his! And he don't eva' take the damn thing outta his pocket," the man explained with ease as he stared the piece of cloth down.

"They's was always fightin' too! Goin' at it. No one eva' thought that the idiot would ever-" Morris cut himself off. He knew he wasn't the best guy out there. But this was a whole new level of evil.

Gibbs stared down the two men for a moment, as if he was trying to pick out their lies. But it seemed as though they were telling the cold hard truth. "Duck!" he called. "Do we have a time of death?"

The ME got to his feet, brushing off his hands. "Difficult to pinpoint the exact time, what with the exposure to the cold. But if I had to be precise-"

"You do," Gibbs interrupted.

The older man sighed. "Just a few hours ago. Last night, at the earliest," he confirmed, placing his hands over the child's eyelids and closing them as gently as he could. "Don't you worry, lad… we'll get to the bottom of this," he promised in a hushed whisper.

"So… do we have a name for our suspect?" Caitlyn asked, her eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.

One of the men, the older one- Morris Delancey- nodded, a sort of sadness washing over him as he wrapped an arm around his little brother. "His name's Kelly… Petty Officer Jack Kelly…"

 **And there you have it! Our very first chapter of a joined evil. It was far too much fun to co-write.**

 **If you guys guys have any questions! Feel free to PM us! And don't forget to review! We'd love your guys' feedback! We can't wait to continue this! So come back next time when my friend bexlynne posts the next update ;)**

 **Love ya, friends!**


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N): Hey friends! It's bexlynne, with chapter two! Thanks for the follows, views, and feedback you've given us on this story! We like having the evil streak in us recognized, it makes us happy.**

 **SynchronizedFireflies: Thanks for the review! Hope you like this chapter!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"I just don't understand why we're here," Morris said, slamming both palms down on the table. "We didn't do anything. We'se the ones who told ya who killed him!"

"Calm down, kid," Tony said, rolling his eyes. " _That's_ why you're here. You're not under arrest, you're here for questioning," he explained in the gentlest way he could. _These two are gonna be fun to deal with…_ he thought before continuing, "So I'll ask you again: why do you two say that Petty Officer Kelly is the killer?"

"It's the bandana," Oscar spoke up, gripping his older brother's forearm tightly. He knew Morris hated this. Being treated like criminals, the attitude this cop was giving them, everything about the situation. If they weren't careful, he knew his brother would say something they'd both regret. "Kelly always had it on him. One of his stupid kids made it or somethin'."

Tony leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together behind his head. "Petty Officer Kelly is twenty-one, and his records show him as never being married," he said, reciting the file from memory. "How many kids are we talkin' about here?"

"Two," Morris spoke up. "He takes care of his brothers. The older one is Os's age, I dunno 'bout the younger one. One of 'em gave that thing to Kelly, he hasn't put it down since."

"Until he left it on a dead boy in an alley," Tony deadpanned, propping his feet up on the table that stood between them. "Get your story straight, kid."

"Mister, we ain't the ones who gotta be defending ourselves!" Morris protested, standing from his seat and raising his voice a bit more than necessary. His brother stared up at him a bit surprised but did not comment on it. "We found the body, we recognized it, we called the cops. They called you," he stated, pointing at the man sitting across the table, looking all too relaxed while he was losing his cool. "Tell me what we did wrong, 'cause I ain't seein' it."

"Yeah, we ain't the ones who killed him!" Oscar added, joining his brother on his feet and glaring at the agent across from them. "Don't blame us for Kelly's mistakes! Sure, I gave him a hard time at school once or twice, but nothin' like Kelly did. They _hated_ each other!"

Tony brought his feet down to the floor abruptly, sitting up straight and leaning forward, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Now we're getting somewhere," he said. "Explain."

"T-they fought all the time," Morris said, recalling nights when he'd been walking through the town at night to hear all the awful things being yelled back and forth, while glasses broke and bodies hit the walls. "Yellin' at each other, throwin' things. Some nights Race… uh _Anthony_ ," he corrected quickly, "had ta stay at a friend's house, it got so bad."

"What friend?" Tony asked, fishing in his pocket for a pen. Morris didn't answer, only wrapped an arm around his younger brother's shoulders. How anyone could treat their younger brother like that was beyond him. More than once he'd thought that he could feel sorry for Race, if the kid didn't mouth off and insult anyone who looked at him wrong. "I need a _name_ , boys," Tony said, tapping his pen against the table in annoyance.

"Albert DaSilva," Oscar supplied almost frightened for what might happen if he didn't supply the information he'd been asked for. "He goes to our school."

"And you really think our Petty Officer killed his brother?" Tony asked, one last time. This wasn't an interrogation, and he didn't want to push them, but at the same time, he needed to be sure.

Both boys exchanged glances, a silent echange passing between the two of them. "Yes, sir," Morris said finally. "With a hothead like Kelly… It definitely coulda happened."

With a sigh and a sad shake of his head, Tony nodded, thanked them for their time, and left the room.

* * *

Jack jumped when a the door opened. He rubbed at his eyes as best he could to at least try and look awake. He did his best not to slouch and look put together, though Jack didn't even think that it was working himself. He was a mess and there was nothing he could do to fix that.

The man that walked in was unreadable. And that made Jack want to squirm under that intimidating glare that was shot at him, but he resisted. The man's silver hair was perfect, right along with his grey suit. Everything about him looked so pristine it almost made the petty officer angry. He tried to ignore every emotion stirred up in him as he thought back to that morning when he'd been on his way out his door to take a walk and this same man had pushed him up against his own home and cuffed him without so much as a word, much less an explanation.

"Are you gonna tell me what the hell this is about, or am I just under arrest without any rights or any reason?" Trying not to wince at his own sarcasm, Jack leaned forward onto the table, ignoring his own fear just like he'd done his entire life.

With somewhat of a smirk and a shrug of his shoulders, the man in front of him reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a large plastic evidence bag, tossing it onto the table like the item inside it held no value whatsoever. And just like that, the man who'd been doing his best to hide his fear with his self taught cockiness and wit was gone, his confusion and terror coming through all at once.

"Look familiar?" the agent asked, folding his hands on the table and still sending shivers down the other man's spine without so much as a threatening word. The subtle look in his icy eyes said it all.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Jack slowly reached down into his pocket, never taking his eyes off of the red bandana that was now on the table. "Where the hell did you get that?" He didn't care how wide his green eyes were. He didn't care that he wasn't supposed to take the evidence. He grasped the bag in his hands and rubbed his thumbs over the plastic that kept him from the treasured piece of cloth that was there.

"Special Agent Gibbs," the man across the table introduced himself, reaching out a hand and not at all phased by the shocked question Jack had asked. But the Petty Officer didn't give him the pleasure of shaking his hand. He just shook his head, only glancing up at the agent, trying to understand what the hell had happened to land him here. "This is yours?"

With a slight nod, Jack tried to shake himself out of it. _Nothing happened… everything's okay..._ he tried to convince himself silently. But it wasn't working, and with the last sleepless night he had, he just couldn't hide his emotions anymore. "Where the _hell_ did you get this?" he asked again, anger coming to take him instead of his charm.

"In an alleyway behind a diner called Jacobi's," the man- Gibbs- replied easily, but as he leaned forward, he began speaking a little quieter and Jack had no idea how to react at what was said next. "It was laying with a boy. Blond hair, blue eyes," he continued, almost fondly, as if he'd known the kid. "He was dead."

There were no words to describe the plummet of Jack's heart into his stomach. His hands began to shake and everything inside him became empty all in a single second. "Wh-what?"

"Where were you last night, Petty Officer?"

* * *

"Quite young, aren't you, my dear boy?" Ducky murmured, examining the dead boy's teeth. "Merely a child. You remind me of a young man I had the privilege of meeting in Sumatra. He was about your age," he smiled, giving bit of warmth and sympathy to the child who would never see the sun again. "He came to me complaining of a toothache. When I examined him, I found almost every tooth in the lad's head to be completely shattered." To him it was almost fascinating. He shook his head at the memory, holding his hand out before a command left his lips. "Scalpel please, Palmer."

The young ME assistant looked up, his attention peaked. "Why?"

Ducky blinked, staring at him through his face shield. "Because I need it to begin the autopsy. Are you thick, lad?"

"N-no, I meant…" Palmer stammered, shaking his head and giving a nervous laugh. "W-why… uh, what happened to the boy's teeth?"

"He'd been chewing rocks to pass the time," Ducky said, gesturing a bit with his hands before making the first incision down the boy's stomach. "Now, I'm no dentist, but I hardly find that a healthy habit to partake in," he commented, his voice becoming lighter as he began to gently work through the boy's autopsy, curious as to how and why this young lad had been so brutally murdered in the first place.

"Well, neither is getting killed," Palmer said, laughing nervously as he gestured toward the body. Though, one look at his superior's face and the smile fell from his own.

Ducky paused, scalpel still in hand, and looked at him hard. "Do you really find that comment to be appropriate, Mr. Palmer?"

The younger man shook his head immediately. "No, sir. An attempt at humor, I apologize."

"A very poor attempt, I'd say," Ducky said mildly, handing the scalpel back to his assistant. "However, there is a chance to redeem yourself. How did our young man meet his tragic end?"

"Uh, he was beaten to death?" Palmer said, not quite certain himself, but hoping that he was correct.

"Is that a question or a statement, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky prodded, exasperated.

"He was beaten to death!" Palmer said, more confident this time, succeeding in keeping the smile off of his face as he was becoming more certain he was right. "Made obvious by the extensive dermal and epidermal bruising to his arms, legs, and torso," he explained, gesturing to the kid on the table. "And would I be right in assuming there's damage to the internal organs?"

"That you would!" Ducky commended. "Several cracked ribs and vertebrae. Our young man sustained quite the beating before he died, most likely with some sort of stick or cane. The varying stages of the bruising indicate that the beating lasted several hours."

"Impressive," Palmer commented, with a slight nod.

"Yes, quite," Ducky agreed quietly, setting the boy's heart on the scale. "It's very impressive that our young hero managed to endure such tortures without going mad."

"I... I meant to say that medical science is impressive to uh… to be able to determine with that level of accuracy…" Palmer felt his sentence get away from him, the words dying on his lips. "He certainly was brave, Dr. Mallard."

"Yes, brave," Ducky muttered absently, leaving Palmer to wipe down and sanitize the scales. As always when he was at work, he lost sight of everything but his current guest, his gaze fixed on the insides of the boy on the table. "Oh, my dear boy. This certainly in a game changer. I do believe you've been hiding secrets from me."

* * *

"I didn't kill my brother, Agent Gibbs!"

Gibbs watched the man in front of him. He was hardly a man at all, still so young. His hands were over his mouth as he paced back and forth across the interrogation room. Tears were running down his face and he refused to look back at him, he even hunched over as if he was about to be sick, but that could mean so many different things. Right now, all he could do was take the information he'd been given and use it. "I never said it was your brother," he smirked, cocking his head a bit to the side to catch any kind of reaction.

The kid stopped pacing for a minute, having to grasp onto the table for stability. "It's not?" he asked, his voice so hopeful it was almost painful.

"He was found this morning by witnesses who claim that you and your brother were rough with each other," the agent replied, dancing around the question. "That true?"

"I don't hate my baby brotha'! I would neva' hurt him!" the Petty Officer cried, stomping lightly on the ground, his whole face full of despair. "Please tell me he ain't gone!"

"Answer the question, Petty Officer!" Gibbs demanded, slamming a hand down on the table and standing to his feet.

"He's my brother!" Kelly insisted, his face turning red while he fought back sobs. "We fight sometimes. He's a hothead and I ain't much betta'. But _I. Don't. Hate. Him._ Anyone who tells ya I could do this ta my own family has the name _Delancey_!" the young man in front of him all but screamed. And just as Gibbs might have answered him, the door to interrogation slowly creaked open and a man peeked his head in.

"My pardons, Jethro," Ducky began apologetically, his heart clearly breaking as he saw the Petty Officers teartracked face. "I need a word."

With one last harsh glare in young Kelly's direction, Gibbs shook his head and walked out. "You'd better have a hell of a good reason for pulling me out of interrogation, Duck," he said once they were safely in the hallway, folding his arms over his chest.

"Oh, Jethro, I do," the ME assured him. "During one of my chats with our dead boy I realized something. The body has been frozen," he told his friend with a note of curiosity in his voice. "And although last night was rather chilly, it was nowhere near freezing, which means-"

"Someone stored the body," Gibbs finished for him. "He wasn't killed the night he was found."

"Definitely not," Ducky stated. "I'd estimate he was killed three or four days ago. The body was stored in a freezer, which slowed the process of decomposition considerably. Then our young lad was thawed out and left in the alleyway for someone to find."

"I don't wanna know _how_ they did it," Gibbs retorted, straightening up a little bit, even more angry that someone would do such a thing to a child. "I wanna know _why_."

With that revelation, Gibbs stormed back through the interrogation room door, letting the thing slam against the wall only to find his Petty Officer staring back at him, a heartbroken and agonized look on his face. Tears were running freely down his young face and he seemed so hopeless. No one could even get a word out before a demand left his lips.

"Let me see him," the man- no, not man… not even close- the boy said, practically pleading with them though his voice was steady and his words were clear. It was all in his forest green eyes. He seemed to sense that Gibbs would argue with him, so he just let more words fall from his lips before the older man could have the chance. " _Please_ … if that's-" he cut himself off, trying to remember how to breathe before he continued. "If that's my brother… if he's gone…"

Jack blinked as his voice cracked, trying in vain to stop his inevitable tears. "Just let me see him… let me say goodbye…" he begged, reaching up to rub away his tears as they ran even faster down his cheeks. "Take me to him."

Gibbs let out a sigh. He shouldn't be doing this. He knew that much. But if _this_ was the way that he'd figure out who killed an innocent boy in such cruel circumstances, maybe it was worth it after all. So, without any words, the special agent simply stepped to the side and swept his arm towards the door, giving the kid a path to walk out of the room. "Let's go."

The petty officer didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

 **There you have it, chapter two! If you liked it, please don't hesitate to leave a review or PM us! The lovely SomedayonBroadway will answer reviews when she posts the next chapter. :)**

 **Love you all!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello again friends! It's been too long! It's SomedayonBroadway here with chapter three of this angst-fest! Thank you all for coming back! We had way too much fun writing this next chapter. I hope you all enjoy!**

 **Guest: Thank you so much for reviewing! We all for bad for good old Jack, the poor guy. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

"You sure we've got the right address?" McGee asked, flipping through the pages of his notebook, searching for the right address for what must've been the millionth time.

Without even looking at the man, Kate nodded, almost annoyed. "1899 Santa Fe Street," she confirmed. "Off-base housing. Calm down Tim, you're doing fine." She almost felt bad. McGee was new. He just wanted to do it all right and she knew how much he wanted all of their approval. But if he kept second guessing himself, he wouldn't get very far.

McGee took a deep breath. "I know," he said. "I just… I wanna do everything right. This is my first time doing something… _anything_ … where I'm not under the direct supervision of a senior agent. I… I don't want to mess anything up."

"We're picking up a kid and bringing him to NCIS," Kate assured, rolling her eyes. "How hard can it be?"

"A teenager," McGee corrected. He shuddered, pausing halfway up the porch steps. "I hate teenagers."

"I know, Tim," Kate said mildly, knocking on the door.

A beat of silence followed. "Race?" a small voice called from inside, a bit confused. "That you?" The kid's voice sounded casual enough, but Kate let herself get a bit curious as to who he was expecting them to be.

"This is NCIS," McGee called loudly. "Open the door."

Another lengthy silence. McGee had half a mind to knock again. But finally… "Come on in," the voice called back.

McGee made a move to reach for the door, but then stopped. "You heard him," Kate prompted, noticing the probie's hesitation. "He said to come in."

"Don't we need a warrant?" the man asked, grabbing her wrist before she could turn the doorknob.

Kate rolled her eyes again. Now it was annoying. "Not if he invites us in. Let go of me." She opened the door, stepping back to let him inside. She swept her arm, gesturing for him to go on. "After you, Tim."

The living room was small and square, holding little else besides a TV and a blonde-haired boy lounging on a battered old couch. He was surrounded by books and notebooks and pencils. He had an old blanket thrown over his legs and his back rest against the arm of the couch. He looked tired, but it didn't look like he was about to sleep anytime soon.

"Charles Kelly?' Kate asked the boy who looked too comfortable and not at all affected by letting strangers into his home.

"You're Navy cops," the kid said flatly, shifting so he could see them better. He pushed himself up straighter with his arms and winced as he moved his legs. Then he went back to taking notes. "What's goin' on? Jack ain't here…"

"We, uh… we know," McGee said, clearing his throat. The boy's head shot up at that. He looked panicked for a moment but then got ahold of himself. "Petty Officer Kelly is currently in an NCIS holding cell. Until we can find a suitable guardian, you'll be in NCIS custody."

The boy shook his head, completely in denial for a moment. He seemed to almost shut down completely at the topic. "I can't go. Race is still gone, and I've gotta get my homework done before Jack gets back…" He faltered, just for a moment. He didn't understand fully what was going on. "He… he's comin' back, ain't he?"

McGee straightened up, feeling as though this boy wasn't taking them seriously, glancing over at Kate. "Unfortunately, Charles-"

"Charlie," the boy corrected forcefully.

" _Charlie_ …" the agent said again. "You don't have a choice in the matter. Until a social worker can be notified, you're under NCIS care."

The boy paled completely at that. His hands began to tremble slightly. "Don't bring the social workers into this!" Charlie protested, his voice rising as panic gripped him. "Just leave me here! I's been on my own before. Race is still out there, probably bein' an idiot, and Jack's gonna be home soon." Jack was coming home. He couldn't just leave. And Race needed someone home when he came back too. No doubt he'd still be peeved about last night. Quite honestly, the boy couldn't remember what the shouts had even been truly about.

"Petty Officer Kelly is a suspect for murder," Kate said sternly, her voice void of emotion. This kid seemed stubborn. "Until an appropriate guardian can be found, you're coming with us."

"Jack wouldn't kill anyone!" Charlie shouted, his face now flushing as he straightens up even more, though he refused to stand. "Let me stay here. Let… let me call my brothers," he finished weakly, shrinking in on himself, suddenly seeming a little nervous, like he knew he'd said something wrong or was scared of being punished for raising his voice.

"You can see Jack soon," Kate said, crouching down in front of him with a small smile. "Okay? But you've gotta come with us."

Charlie let out an exaggerated sigh, flopping down onto the cushions of the couch. His back hit the soft surface and he blinked the fear out of his eyes. He couldn't be scared right now. McGee rolled his eyes. "C'mon kid, don't be like that," he groaned. "You're coming to NCIS one way or another. How about you make things a little easier on all of us and get moving?"

Charlie struggled to get back into a sitting position. "But--"

"No buts," McGee said firmly. _Just… pretend you're talking to Sarah,_ he instructed himself, thinking of his younger sister. "We can't just bend the law."

"Fine," Charlie bit out through clenched teeth. "I just…" He hated being spoken to like a small child. He may be fourteen, but he'd been through a lot more in his life than grown adults had.

McGee shook his head. "I want… I want to see you off that couch and following Agent Todd out to the car in five minutes."

" _Alright_!" Charlie interjected, angry and scared and annoyed. "I'm goin'!" He bit his lip, scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. "Just pass me those," he said, nodding towards the silver forearm crutches leaning against the wall.

The color rushed out the man's face as he nodded before numbly handing them over. "Nice one, Tim," Kate whispered sarcastically, helping the kid up. She fished the keys out of the other agent's pocket as she passed. "I'm driving."

And that was that.

Jack didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to feel. He didn't know what to say. All he knew was his world was crashing down around him. His hands were locked in cuffs in front of him. He could hardly see anything. Not that he was looking as he was practically dragged through the building.

He could've been crying. He didn't know. He didn't think he was. It wasn't real. It was like Jack was in another world. Nothing made sense. People were speaking but it didn't sound like English. Everything looked foreign. But it was real.

 _Wake up, Jack… wake up!_

"Jack?"

That voice snapped him out of his own world and back into reality. A reality that still didn't click.

"Crutch?" Jack looked around immediately for his baby brother. The boy was just exiting the elevator, escorted by two other agents. "Crutchie?" The boy was using his crutches. Jack felt himself give into one emotion at that moment.

Anger. Complete and total fury.

"Why the hell did ya bring him down here?!" he bit out, glaring at the agents. The woman was tough. Jack could tell that immediately. The other, however, was not so tough. He looked nervous. Jack has always been good at reading people. Even when he hadn't slept all night.

"Jack, what-"

"You people really are stupid, ain't ya?" Jack spat out. The agent that was guiding him gripped his arm tighter as he made a move to step towards his little brother. He glared up at Gibbs but the man only glared back at him. "He's been havin' trouble walkin'. He needs ta be at home restin', not here-"

"If his guardian goes to jail, he's gonna need a place to stay," Gibbs deadpanned, shoving Jack forward. Jack wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his kid brother. He couldn't. He couldn't only lock eyes with him as he was walking through the building like a criminal.

"Is Race at home, Charlie?" he asked desperately. "Did he come home this mornin'?"

Something in Charlie felt hollow. Fear sparked up in his chest. "No… I thought you went ta get him this mornin'..."

It was then that Jack allowed the tears to well up in his eyes.

The elevator ride was taken in silence. The older man that had interrupted the interrogation seemed afraid to set anyone off. Jack could feel the pity radiating off of him. The other agent was still painfully unreadable. Jack wasn't used to not being able to pick up on the little things. He didn't like this. Any of it. And not one word was spoken to him the whole way down.

The second the elevator opened, the situation seemed to hit him like the worst beating he'd ever had.

 _He was dead…_

He was supposed to walk now. He was supposed to get out of the elevator, but he couldn't move. He was suffocating. He'd worked so hard. This wasn't supposed to happen.

This was all his fault.

 _"Anthony, don't you dare walk out that door!"_

He had. And Jack hadn't stopped him.

Gibbs let Ducky walk past him. The other man was going to autopsy. Gibbs didn't stop him. He just let him go, standing silently and watching the petty officer stand frozen in the middle of the elevator. It could be an act, but Gibbs wasn't so sure. Still, there were plenty of ways he could be the murderer, even if he was on the verge of a panic attack. "Coming, Petty Officer?"

"I…" He was gonna lose it. He couldn't break down yet. He had to do this. If Race was gone… if his baby brother was dead, it was all his fault. "Did… how bad is it?" There were so many questions circling around in Jack's head as his brain tried to process the overall situation. _Did he suffer? Was he scared? How did it happen?_ Everything...

Gibbs didn't say anything. He grabbed the man's arm and pushed him towards autopsy.

The room was blinding and white and too much for Jack to handle. He felt nauseous.

He was lead to a wall covered in square doors. He knew what was behind them. It didn't help things. The old man was standing beside a specific one, watching Jack and Gibbs as they crossed the room. He was shaking by now.

"Are you ready?" Gibbs didn't think the man deserved to be ready. There was a child dead on the streets and the evidence pointed to this man. But he didn't interrupt Ducky. He watched Kelly shake his head and clear his throat, trying in vain to take a deep breath. "I should warn you… it won't be easy…"

Sniffling back his sorrow and pain, Jack was able to force out, "just do it…"

He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to see those perfect blue eyes so lifeless. He wasn't ready to see those constantly tapping fingers so still. He wasn't ready to lose one of his kids.

Ducky slowly opened the freezer, gently pulling out the young child that had been found on the streets. It was gruesome and unfair. "I know this might be difficult but-" the medical examiner was cut off by a watery laugh. And he froze, appalled as he looked up at the young man in the room. He glanced over at Gibbs who straightened up, his intimidating stature making him look menacing.

"Something funny to you, Petty Officer?" he demanded as Jack braced himself on the wall, his knees going weak.

Vigorously shaking his head, the young man laughed and sobbed all at once. "No, sir…" he somehow got out. "No… it's just… that ain't Racer…" Jack took in a shuddering breath. "That's someone's kid but it ain't mine," he said again, letting a small smile play at his lips. "That ain't him! He's alive! He's okay!"

Ducky carefully slid the boy back into the freezer as Gibbs glared hard at the young man who was hardly standing anymore.

"Was this some kind of sick joke? Did Conlon put you up ta this?!" Jack demanded, still trying to catch his breath. "I knew he wan'ed us ta stop fightin', but _this_ -"

"Don't get too excited. You're still a suspect for murder."

Those words almost had no effect on the Petty Officer. He was too busy rejoicing in the fact that his family was still whole, that they were okay.

For now. Though, that wasn't quite good enough.

"Can I see my brother?" the young man asked, whirling around from the gruesome sight to face the agent who clearly didn't understand him at all. "I need… I need to see him. Without these." He held up his hands, the handcuffs rattling. He hated the feeling. It made him feel trapped. He wasn't willing to let his brother see him like that again.

Gibbs stared at him, his icy blue eyes narrowing. "You make one wrong move, do one thing I don't like, and I'll have my agents shoot you," he warned, taking out the keys and unlocking the cuffs slowly, not once breaking eye contact with the young man.

Jack's entire body slumped with relief as the old man set his hands free. "Thank you," he breathed, rubbing the marks around his wrists. "Thank you, I swear I won't do anythin'..."

"Don't thank me yet," Gibbs said, taking him by the arm and steering him roughly into the elevator. It was hard to not feel like a kid again, being shoved every which way without a say. Once he saw his baby brother, it took every ounce of willpower Jack had not to run to him, but Gibbs' grip on his arm held him back- another familiar feeling the petty officer would much rather forget. He chose to focus on the young child instead. The blonde boy was slumped in an office chair behind a computer that Jack could see was shut off, absently kicking at the crutches at his feet. The young man's heart broke at the sight. But he looked up to the agent that seemed to have some kind of prejudice against him. The older man didn't look phased by the desperation Kelly knew was in his eyes. But he nodded towards the teenager, releasing Jack's arm. "Go."

The young man's chest felt just a little lighter. "Charlie!" Jack shouted, running and dropping to his knees next to his brother's chair, resting a gentle hand on the boy's knee and grabbing one of the kid's palms in his other.

It was so strange to the kid. The stress of the past day had been something he'd tried to suppress. But when Jack looked at him like that, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, he couldn't keep it all inside anymore. Crutchie's green eyes filled with tears, and he covered his mouth with the back of his hand. "Jack…"

"Are you okay?" Jack asked, grasping him by the shoulders and checking him over, almost looking frantic. "They didn't hurt you, did they? Is your leg okay?"

"'M fine, Jack," Crutchie said, smiling in spite of his tears, bringing one of his fists up to scrub at his cheeks. "Promise."

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay… okay…" he wanted to collapse. He wanted to let the adrenaline crash take over. He wanted to sleep with his family in his arms. Instead he just nodded, pulling the boy into a crushing hug. "I love you, baby," he murmured into the boy's ear as quietly as he could. The agents were watching him and he knew it. But he didn't care. Thinking he lost one of his kids had gotten to him. He never wanted to feel like that ever again.

"I love you too," Crutchie whispered, burying his face in the crook of his brother's neck.

Tony raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Gibbs, who had been watching the brothers' reunion stony-faced. He watched everything stony faced. But the affection that was happening in front of both of them left some questions swirling around in the very special agent's mind. The guy seemed tough enough, but the teenager seemed to bring him down to his knees. He gave his boss a confused look. One that asked a question without words. Gibbs only shook his head and watched the scene in front of them, motionless, like he was trying to see into the boys' lives by simply watching them interact.

The two were behind Kate's desk. McGee and her had left after dropping him off, after the Kelly kid had glared at them and told them they were making a mistake, that they were going to have hell to pay because Jack didn't take kindly to people dragging him around. He didn't sound threatening. He sounded scared.

"Where's Race?" Crutchie asked, pulling back in Jack's arms just enough to see his face. "He… he's okay, right? Did you call him? Is he with Al?" He hated it when Race wasn't home. It made him too anxious.

Jack sighed, shrugging just a little bit, letting the kid's hand slip from his. "I don't know, Crutch," he admitted. "I know he's okay, though. Ya know why?" When Crutchie shook his head, the petty officer tipped his chin up, gently drying his tears with a small smile. "'Cause he's a Kelly. We're always okay, no matter what comes at us." The younger boy managed a watery smile, grasping Jack's hand.

"He'll come back to us," Jack promised, smoothing his little brother's hair. "He always does."

The senior agent pursed his lips and squinted his eyes at the scene. Something was wrong here and he knew it. But he couldn't place it. Maybe it was the missing brother, the body that seemed to have no connection to these kids at all, maybe it was the whole situation. He knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot. There was still a dead child in the morgue. Someone had to take responsibility.

"Times up, Petty Officer," Gibbs stated, walking up to the pair, though not touching either of them. "Let's go," he said, motioning to the elevator.

"Go where?" Charlie asked, glancing between the agent and his big brother. Gibbs didn't answer him. He just nodded towards Dinozzo, receiving a nod in return. The younger man sat down at his desk as the leader of the team, held a hand out towards the boy in the chair. Charlie did not take it.

With a sigh, Jack stood to his feet, not yet glancing at the agent behind him. He reached out to steady Crutchie as he stood, causing the younger boy to roll his eyes. "I'm fine, Jack," he mumbled, though he did lean further into his brother.

Jack grinned crookedly. "Sue me for caring, pal." And with that, they made their way to the elevator, the petty officer just glad the cuffs weren't locked around his wrists again as he refused to leave his little brother's side.

The car ride was taken in silence. Jack was too scared to say anything. He thought back to the fact that his bandana was still somewhere inside NCIS headquarters. It wouldn't matter too much once he saw Race. Race should be home by now.

Right?

The car stopped outside their house. Jack helped his brother out of the backseat, placing a hand on his shoulder as they walked up the familiar walkway to their house. Jack knew how much his baby brother hated using his crutches. Normally, when his leg started acting up, he'd lay in bed all day until him or Race found him. Jack felt guilty for being the reason he was forced outside prematurely today. It took a minute for them to make it to the door.

Agent Gibbs brushed past him, taking all three porch steps in one big step and flipping open his knife, slicing through the NCIS seal on the door. "Go inside," he ordered, his voice still quiet and even. "Pack a bag."

"Wait, a bag?" Jack said, leaving his brother's side to face the older man. "We ain't stayin'?"

The agent levelled him with an icy gaze. "No," he said, as if it were obvious. "He's a minor, and you're a murder suspect."

Jack sighed in frustration. He clenched his jaw for a second, shaking his head as he pushed past the agent, into his house. He paused when his brother followed him to the base of the stairs. He turned, beginning to help his baby brother up the stairs. "Go get some clothes and your school stuff, okay Crutch?" he said, crouching down to look him in the eyes. Crutchie gave him a small nod.

"Pack one for your brother, too," Gibbs said, following the two up the stairs. He made it to the top first.

"Race?" Jack asked, quickening his steps to keep up. He didn't like the idea of someone being up in his business. Especially not someone who was trying to find evidence that he'd murdered a kid on the streets.

The senior agent nodded, heading down the hall. He opened the first door he came to, glancing inside. Sloppily made bed, Grand Theft Auto poster on the wall, leg brace kicked under the bed- definitely Charlie's. Leaving the door open, he moved on to the next, ignoring Jack's protests. This room was neat as a pin. The bed was made without a single wrinkle, clothes were hung neatly in the closet, not a hair out of place. The petty officer's. With a satisfied nod, Gibbs opened the third door at the end of the hall. The sight caught him a little off guard.

"Petty Officer," he called down the hall. The man in question let out an exasperated response. Gibbs just rolled his eyes. "Is your brother always this messy?"

The young man sighed, leaving his youngest brother's room, coming to check it out. He ran a hand down his face as he stumbled towards the other room. "I told him to clean it. That's… that's what we were fighting about before…" he trailed off, not even wanting to finish, not wanting the agent to know everything. "That's why he left." Gibbs took a step back, gesturing Jack into the room with a jerk of his head. The petty officer walked in, knowing what to expect. An unmade bed, clothes on the floor, signs of a rebellious teenage boy who thought he didn't need his big brother anymore. But his eyes widened at the sight.

The room was _trashed_. Posters ripped off the walls, pillows and blankets thrown on the floor, the mattress askew, dirty clothes and food wrappers scattered around the room. "That's not… that's not how he left it," Jack breathed, taking a cautious step into the room. His eyes were fixed on the opposite wall- on the half-open window and the scratch marks that gouged the wall near it… like someone had been dragged out through it. And just beneath it, a few drops of blood staining the carpet. He went to rush in, wanting so desperately to understand what the hell had happened.

"Stand down, Petty Officer," Gibbs ordered, his voice startling Jack like a gunshot. He gripped the shaken kid by his collar, pulling him back to the doorway. He flipped open his phone, dialing a well-known number.

"Get the hell offa me!" Jack demanded, wrenching himself out of the older man's grip. He watched as the agent walked into the room, inspecting everything. "Get out! Get the hell out of my brother's room!"

"This isn't your brother's room anymore," Gibbs said grimly, bring the phone to his ear. "It's a crime scene…"

 **Thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it as much as we did! Come back around next time for chapter 4 with my friend bexlynne! Love ya friends!**


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